


Drwg

by BlaiddtheWolf



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:11:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaiddtheWolf/pseuds/BlaiddtheWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not just a dog, a creature. A monster. Something that follows every command without hesitation and without mercy. Something that can outrun, outthink, outwit, and overpower anyone or anything. A thing that would be completely loyal to the man. And that thing started with S.D.39. A lonely grey and black puppy whose paws would one day run red with blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drwg

**Author's Note:**

> so this is a backstory for a character of mine, drwg

Drwg

His life started in cage. A young puppy, alone in a place that held no comfort or warmth, where men in long coats poked and prodded him on cold tables and men with chains and sticks beat him into submission.  
He never knew love. He was just a lonely black and grey pup of questionable breeding, taken from his family as soon as he no longer needed his mother to survive. He never saw them again, and didn’t ever remember them as he grew older.  
The puppy was owned by a paranoid, and extremely rich, business man. What business the man was involved in was often a whispered discussion among the man’s many personal employees (kitchen staff, house cleaners, gardeners, and that one strange window washer every one tried to avoid). Some said he was a crime lord, in charge of drug and weapons smuggling, even human trafficking. Others claimed he worked for a top secret branch of government, dealing with weapon design. But the most popular rumor was that below his mansion was a testing facility, playing with genetics, cloning, and weaponizing living things, a Baskerville or Jurassic Park right beneath their place of employment.  
Whatever the man’s business truly was, (the last one is closest to the truth, but it is not important) what he wanted was security. He had the best alarm systems, highly trained armed guards, viscous guard dogs, and geese. But for him, this was not enough. The man wanted something better.  
He continued with a lonely black and grey pup. His label, now I do not say name, because it was not said in a way that conveyed love, or friendship, it was said like how one labels a possession, because he was only that, a possession to do with as you please without any regard to whether this thing might have feelings. His label was S.D.39. Security Dog #39. He was the 39th attempt at creating the perfect guard dog. The previous 38…well, in short, they failed.  
Among the man’s personal staff was a large team of scientists, with many different specialties. The ones important to this story are the ones specializing in neurology. It was their job, along with the animal trainers (the ones with screaming voices and beating stick, not ones with treats and clickers) to create the perfect guard dog. Not just a dog, a creature. A monster. Something that follows every command without hesitation and without mercy. Something that can outrun, outthink, outwit, and overpower anyone or anything. A thing that would be completely loyal to the man. And that thing started with S.D.39. A lonely grey and black puppy whose paws would one day run red with blood.  
But today, the puppy was scared and alone in a cage that seemed vast and lonely with no other dogs to keep him company or soothe his fear. No other dogs to rush to his aid as he whimpered and cried as the dog trainers beat him into submission. No one to whimper in worry when he stopped crying, but instead snarled and bit. After a year, S.D.39 never cried. He did as he was told when he was told or he was punished severely.  
The doctors assigned to the Security Dog job had not been idle during this year. A stripe of long grey fur grew along the top of S.D.39s skull, and down a bit of his neck, where it had grown differently after his many brain surgeries. These enhanced his ability to understand human speech, to give him a more human way of thinking. He was more aggressive, cleverer, his puzzle solving skills and intelligence were enhanced. All surgeries that had been tested and tried on 38 previous Security Dogs, but had, for one reason or another, failed. All done to S.D.39, and done successfully.  
But the man was not content. The dog was not yet good enough. He had to be better, more. And so the surgeons who had altered S.D.39s mind so much performed one last surgery.  
Where the wings came from they were not quite sure of. They had shown up on a large ice box, the man with them demanding S.D.39 needed to fly. Then he left, leaving two very large, red, bat-like wings. As the doctors more closely examined the wings, they were astonished to find that they were made of living tissue, as if they had been taken from another living creature. They did not want to think further on what else was dwelling beneath the man’s mansion that could supply such wings. Instead, they began their work. They sedated S.D.39 and put him onto a large steel operating table, the wings lain out on the next table, ready to be transplanted onto the dog.  
Getting S.D.39 ready and then attaching the wings was a long and labor filled process. The surgeons had to open long slices along the dogs back, and spend hours rearranging and preparing muscle, nerves, blood vessels. They had to add new bones and shift old to accommodate the new wings, and to maybe make it possible for S.D.39 to just support his new wings. Muscle had to be added, rearranged, and sewn back together, to try to make it possible to move them, maybe use them. By the time they were done, with S.D.39 put back into his cage, all the doctors were exhausted. S.D.39 was carried back to his cage, back, and now wings, covered in bandages, body wrapped in gauze and tape.  
The doctors and random staff that had gathered looked down upon the dog, no, creature, and shuddered. Below them was a monster, no longer a small puppy but a large dog, though, while still young, comes up to the doctors knees, and sure to grow more. His body was dark grey, his head, ruff, belly, back and legs a deep black. Below his eyes, like a thick tear trail, was light grey, as was the fluff that grew along the top of his head and neck, fur that grew differently after his many surgeries, forming a sort of Mohawk. And now, spanning his back, two massive bat-like wings, switching as S.D.39 slept.  
A lab technician stood in the corner, whispering foreign words that slipped into S.D.39s dreams. “Rydym wedi creu cythraul. Dim ond drwg llechu yn y neuaddau. Drwg. Drwg. Drwg.” That word circled in the dogs head, repeating over and over. Drwg. Drwg. Drwg. 

 

 

 

*we have created a demon. Only evil lurks in these halls. Evil. Evil. Evil.


End file.
